


Feeling Low (Lower Than I Did Before)

by dumdumbrendon



Category: Captain America RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumdumbrendon/pseuds/dumdumbrendon
Summary: “Hey honey, how was the sho-“ Chris’s voice dies as his eyes see his boyfriend. His long hair is messy and he looks sick. Sick in the way that makes Chris forget about his own illness, get up and wrap an arm around Seb, in fear of him passing out right there. -- Sebastian gets hit with the flu and Chris gets worried.





	Feeling Low (Lower Than I Did Before)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy! Just a quick little thing. If you want to flail over Seb and the idea of him being sick, come talk to me over on tumblr. My url is dontfeeltoohot.

It’s been a tough week. Chris has been sick with a head cold and Sebastian’s had more on his plate than usual. He did an interview Monday, did a shoot with don and a red carpet event Tuesday. Wednesday he’d done a photo shoot plus a table reading for a new movie. Thursday he’d managed to get some grocery shopping done, pick up some cough medicine for Chris and had a session with his therapist. It’s Friday now, and he’s rushing out the door for his last shoot of the week. It’s for GQ, and Seb’s excited but also tired. His excitement wins out. 

Chris had been snuggled up in bed, no responsibilities, when he’d left. They’d spent the morning cuddling and Seb had managed to make some soup and a grilled cheese without burning it for his poor guy who was still congested and lethargic. 

Seb makes it to the warehouse where they’re shooting with five minutes to spare. He meets the photographer and makeup artist, the people dressing him. He’s happy to do the piece, he’s already done the interview, so this is the last thing before publication in December. 

They dress him in black slacks and a blue button down, making his eyes pop. Despite it being October in New York, it’s chilly and Seb can’t help the small shiver that runs through his body as they step out to the fields behind the large unit. 

He works the camera as always. Flashes smiles and pouts, does exactly as he’s told. The photographer, Jennings, loves his look. They go through another outfit before they break for a few minutes. Sebastian finds a chair inside and sits down, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s freezing. 

His head’s started to hurt just a little, and his body feels heavy. Seb mostly ignores it, making a guess in his head to how many more outfits they have. He sees three more shirts and stifles a groan. He should be happy he’s getting this opportunity. And he is. But Sebastian’s body is cold and he can’t warm up and his whole body is aching a little. 

He gets changed after the small break and makes his way back outside. They put him on a train track, and Jennings directs him smoothly. He’s in the middle of listening to her direction when he’s hot with a chill that leaves him shivering. He feels his body tremble and is suddenly too aware of his body, the aches and pains. He blanks his mind out and follows mechanically, hoping it’ll all be good in the end. 

Jennings must be able to tell something is up because she cuts the shoot short, offers him some warm coffee as he puts his own sweater back on. Seb declines softly, his stomach feeling sloshy and sour. Being back inside in the comforting warmth makes him feel worse. His headache increases and as he stands after tying his shoes, the whole world tips a bit. Sebastian thinks he must go pale because in less than a second, Jennings is holding him steady and asking if he’s alright. 

“I’m fine,” he says weakly, wincing as he hears how pathetic he sounds. He’s been feeling abstractly sick for the past hour or so, but now, standing there with the woman’s arm on him, he feels sick. His stomach feels too full, his head is pounding, his whole body aches like he’s been run over, and there’s chills that keep wracking his slender frame. He steps away, apologizing. 

“I’m good, really. Sorry. Just got a bit dizzy. I’ll be okay. I’m sorry for not bringing my best. Let me know if you want to retake some photos?” Seb asks, pulling his leather jacket on. He feels kind of like he’s swimming, like the air is too thick. Wondering briefly what’s happening, why everything came on so fast, he hugs Jennings properly and then moves out to his car. It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to pull away from the curb. 

He’s turned the heat on full blast and finally, slowly, pulls away, foggy headed and feeling more sick by the minute. As he hits a red light, Sebastian tries to think clearly. He needs to get home, get showered and get in bed. But he also needs to make sure Chris is alright and is taken care of. He talks out loud to his car, thankful for hands free calling. 

“Call Chris,” he speaks evenly. 

“Calling Chris Heart Emoji..” 

The ringer goes on for three beats before his boyfriend picks up. 

“Hey baby,” Chris’s voice is low and hoarse from sickness, congestion still prominent despite it being four days since catching the cold. Seb instantly hums in sympathy. 

“Hey babe. On my way home. You doin’ okay? You need anything?” He hopes his voice isn’t as weak as it had been a few minutes ago. He aims the heat coming from the vent closer to his face. 

Chris is silent for a second, before sighing. “I’m okay. Tired. Missing my guy. Maybe need more cold medicine? We’re almost out,” he trails off, small coughs working their way out. 

Sebastian internally groans, the idea of a trip to the store daunting. But Chris needs him. It takes all his energy to reply with a “Alright love. I’ll be home soon,” before I love you’s are exchanged and they’re hanging up. 

Seb lets out a cough of his own, a few in a row that leave his throat sore. God, he thinks, as he moves through the streets of bustling New York City. It came on so fast and he’s feeling so bad and what he wouldn’t give to be in bed right now. He’s not felt this sick in a long time. In the back of his mind, red flags go off, telling him he probably has the flu, but he ignores them and finally parks in a parking deck for Target. 

Checking himself in the mirror before getting out, he grimaces. He’s pale and has dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks are pink and he looks exhausted. He picks up the baseball cap in his passenger seat and pulls it on, along with the hood of his jacket. The last thing he wants is to be recognized. 

Walking down the medical isle, Sebastian finds the DayQuil and NyQuil packets that Chris likes to take. He holds them and is about to walk back to the front when he pauses. There’s a large bottle with orange goop in it. The front reads “Theraflu, for Severe Cough and Flu Symptoms.” Sighing, he grabs that one too and then retreats back up front to check out. He opts for self check out, feeling guilty as he touches the pin pad, knowing full well he’s giving his germs to others. 

By the time he’s parking in the parking garage for the place he and Chris live, Sebastian feels almost woozy, overly warm but also too cold. His stomach is cramping, his throat hurts and he can barely keep his eyes open. Jesus Christ. 

Coughing as he pushes his key into the door, Sebastian walks in, locks the door behind him and then lets out a low groan. Thank god he’s back in their home. Away from people and the chilly climate. He hears the tv going in their bedroom and moves less gracefully than he’d like to admit, down the hallway. 

“Hey honey, how was the sho-“ Chris’s voice dies as his eyes see his boyfriend. His long hair is messy and he looks sick. Sick in the way that makes Chris forget about his own illness, get up and wrap an arm around Seb, in fear of him passing out right there. 

“Honey, god, are you alright?” The blond asks. He doesn’t hesitate putting a cool palm to Seb’s overly warm forehead. Sebastian lets out another groan, small and weak and so unlike him that Chris’s anxiety ratchets up another notch. 

“Babe,” Chris leads him to the bed, taking the bag from him to sit on their nightstand. Sebastian coughs into his arm and another chill wracks his body. It doesn’t stop though, and he’s left shaking as Chris sniffles and gets some sweatpants and old T-shirt of his. The older man takes Seb’s shoes off and manages to wrestle his pants and shirt off as well, Seb staying mostly quiet and glassy eyed. 

“Honey, talk to me. I know you feel bad. This came on fast, yeah?” Chris needles, tugging the shirt on his guy. Seb finally looks up and nods slowly, like the action alone zaps any energy he’s had left. 

“Didn’t feel bad when I left...feel really unwell now,” he mumbles out, pulling the sweats on himself with shaky hands. He feels his stomach turn and he lurches off their king sized bed and across the hall to their bathroom. He’s vomiting into the toilet before his knees fully hit the ground. He heaves three more times before his stomach unclenches and he leans back against the wall.

Sebastian tries to flush the toilet but his arm feels like jello and then Chris is there, flushing it for him and handing him a cool bottle of water. 

“Don’t swallow it, just wash your mouth out. Poor guy, you’re so sick Seb.” 

Sebastian would normally reply with some witty and sarcastic remark but today, all he does is swish the water in his mouth, spit it into the toilet   
and then lean against Chris, head lolling to the side. Chris runs his hand across Seb’s cheek and then slowly helps him stand. He gets them back to the bed and then helps his guy get under the blankets. 

“Lay down Chris,” Seb mumbles, barely awake. Chris can’t help but smile. Even miserably sick, the other still worries.

“Alright, Alright. I’m coming.” Chris gets in bed too and wraps an arm around Sebastian, the man trembling as they both try to get some sleep. 

***************


End file.
